Page 50 of Saved By the Boss

“Ladies,” he says in his gravelly voice. “What brings you in today?”

“Miss Los Angeles here doesn’t have supplies,” Tawny says before I can answer. “We’re making sure she’s ready for the storm.”

Ron raises an eyebrow, his pen hovering over the crossword.

“You should have told me, Jade,” Ron answers, his voice now colored with concern. “We have to get you ready.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Tawny says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Let’s get her fixed up.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. Tawny’s energy is infectious, even when she’s being dramatic. “I just need a few things,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Weatherstripping, maybe some extra insulation. Oh, and I need to ask about firewood.”

“Firewood, huh?” Ron scratches his chin. “Might be a bit late in the season for that but let me check.”

As Ron heads toward the back of the store, Tawny grabs my arm and starts pulling me down one of the aisles. “Okay, first things first,” she says. “Weatherstripping. You want the foam kind, not the rubber. It’s easier to work with, and you don’t need fancy tools to install it.”

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, eyeing the shelves of options.

“Trust me,” she says, grabbing a roll and tossing it into the basket I’m holding. “I may not look it, but I’m basically a home improvement expert.”

I snort. “Sure you are,” I say doubtfully, remembering the time she tried to fix a hole in her wall with toilet paper and nail polish.

She grins and starts rifling through a bin of door sweeps, muttering to herself about sizes and materials.

“This one,” she says finally, holding up a metal-backed sweep with a triumphant look. “This’ll keep the draft out.”

I add it to the basket, letting her take the lead. Tawny might not actually be a home improvement expert, but she’s lived here a lot longer than I have. Besides, it’s kind of nice having someone fuss over me for a change.

We make our way through the store, Tawny giving dubious advice at every turn. “You don’t need those fancy thermal curtains,” she says, waving dismissively at a display. “Just stick a blanket over the window. Works just as well, and it’s cheaper.”

I’m about to argue when Ron returns, his expression thoughtful. “Got some firewood in the back,” he says. “Not much, but it should be enough to get you through the storm.”

I smile gratefully at him, hoping he hasn’t gone to too much trouble. Ron’s been taking care of me like a grandfather since the moment I arrived in town. We met at the diner when I’d stopped through, thinking this was just going to be a quick pit stop. He barely looked at me for five minutes before he assessed that I was running away from something.

“We don’t judge here,” he’d told me. “Folks stop in our town for days, weeks, sometimes even years, and we treat them all the same. It doesn’t matter what brings you here, but you’ll start to call it home sooner than you’d think.”

Sure enough, I’d decided I would stay for a while after our conversation. When I realized it would be a more permanent arrangement, he’d helped me get a job at the diner and offered me the room above the hardware store. Once his grandson went to college, he brought me on to help run the store.

Ron comes back. “I have a line on some wood for you. It’s not a lot, but it’ll get you through the storm.”

“Perfect,” Tawny says before I can thank him. “We’ll take it.”

Ron nods but hesitates. “You got a way to haul it up the mountain?”

I blink, realizing I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh… I was just going to—”

“I can bring it to her,” a deep voice says, cutting me off. I turn to see a man stepping forward from one of the aisles. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with dark red hair and striking green eyes that seem to see right through me. He’s pushing a cart of his own, in which I see single generator.

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” I say quickly, my cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Not a problem,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “I’ve got a truck. Won’t take me long.”

Tawny nudges me with her elbow, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “See? The universe provides.”

I shoot her a look but turn back to the man. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

He shrugs. “I’m already heading up the mountain. Might as well help out.”

There’s something in his tone, something quiet and unassuming, that makes it hard to argue. I glance at Ron, who just shrugs like this sort of thing happens all the time. Technically, it kind of does, but only because most people here have known each other since birth.

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